


Model BK0083

by Lennelle



Series: Deviant [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Android Sam Winchester, Detective Dean Winchester, Detroit Become Human AU, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-10-11 08:13:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17443193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lennelle/pseuds/Lennelle
Summary: Dean isn't exactly thrilled to be lumped with Mr Plastic, especially when it insists on asking so many annoying questions. If they're going to be working together, Dean needs to lay down some ground rules.





	Model BK0083

**Author's Note:**

> another one of these bc I'm still obsessed with the d:bh world.

Dean arrives at the station three hours late with a hangover which feels eerily similar to being hit in the head by a baseball bat. Dean knows exactly how the latter feels, but that's not exactly important. What's important is that he'd arrived at work with a bacon and egg sandwich in one hand and an extra strong cup of coffee in the other, hoping for at least twenty minutes of peace to sit as his desk and scoff them down.

That  _thing_ \- what was its name? - is here, standing ramrod straight in front of Dean's cluttered desk, creepily human eyes sweeping over it's surface. After last night and all the alcohol he'd absorbed into his bloodstream, Dean had mostly forgotten about robocop. He sighs and trudges further into the station, receiving an amused look from Charlie as he passes.

"He's been there since 7am," she says. "Hasn't moved much since he arrived."

"Jesus Christ," Dean mutters. "Why me?"

Charlie answers with a simple shrug a returns to her work. As Dean nears, the android blinks and turns to look on him. The smile it wears is as synthetic as the rest of it.

"Detective Winchester," it greets. "I have already downloaded all 284 files on reported deviant androids in the city into my system."

"Good for you," Dean says and brushes past to drop into his desk chair. He takes a bite of his sandwich and washes it down with a glug of coffee. The android hasn't budged, it simply stands beside him, waiting. "Could you give me a few minutes?" Dean asks. "Why don't you go... I don't know. What do androids do?"

"We fulfil our commands," Sam replies. "I have been commanded to solve this case."

Dean drops his breakfast on his desk and scrubs a hand over his face. "Yep, I got that. Look, just... explore the station or something. Fill up that database of yours with information. Count the spoons in the kitchen or measure the toilet paper in the bathroom."

Sam tilts his head. "I suspect you're being sarcastic."

"You suspect correct," Dean answers. "I'm your new master, right? I'm ordering you to leave me alone for 20 minutes."

With a curt nod, Sam turns on his heel and begins to wander the station. Dean watches him until he disappears around the corner to the kitchen. Jesus, Dean thinks, it's really counting the spoons, isn't it? He takes the opportunity to fill his belly with greasy street food and caffeine. He feels marginally less awful after. He licks his fingers clean and logs onto his computer, before he can do anything else he hears a thud in the kitchen.

"For fucks sake," he groans, getting to his feet. "What now?"

He turns into the kitchen fully expecting Sam to be causing problems, short-circuiting and knocking things off counters or something, but he finds Sam on the floor, Officer Gordon Walker standing over it.

"This yours?" Walker asks Dean.

"Apparently," Dean replies.

"I told it to make me a coffee and it said no," Walker scoffs. "You ever hear of an android saying no to an order?"

The officers sipping coffee behind nod along like a pantomime audience. 

Sam attempts to stand up but is knocked back to the ground by another swift kick from Gordon. "Make me a coffee," he orders again.

Sam glances up at Dean. "I am only authorised to take orders from Detective Dean Winchester," it says.

Gordon's gaze flicks over to Dean. "Tell it to make me a coffee," he says.

Dean's not exactly pro-android. They freak him out for starters, and more and more household androids have been attacking their owners, not to mention Dean's dislike for modern technologies. But one thing Dean likes less than androids? Gordon fucking Walker. And Dean doesn't know why, but something on Sam's synthetic face makes him pity the thing. The android stares up at Dean, waiting.

"Sam, stand up," Dean says. "Gordon, back off, okay?"

He helps Sam to his feet - and, Jesus, he forgot just how tall this fucker is, he could have pounded Gordon into the ground if he wanted to - and gives Gordon a  _what can you do_ shrug.

"No one likes that thing working here," Gordon says. "You know how many jobs androids have taken over? It'll be ours next."

"Believe me," Dean replies. "No one likes this less than me."

He heads back to his desk, Sam trailing behind him. He slumps into his desk chair and stares up at him. BK0083 is printed in luminous blue letters on his jacket. A totally new model of android.

"You just let him kick you to the ground," Dean says. "Why didn't you fight back?"

Sam frowns. "Androids are not permitted to harm a human."

"What if he'd taken it further?" Dean asks, out of curiosity. "What if he decided to break you into pieces."

Sam blinks at the ground and Dean tries to remember androids can't think. They analyse and process like any other computer but they can't  _think._

"I am not his property to break," Sam replies. "I would have to restrain him to avoid any further damage."

Dean notices blue fluid dribbling from the android's nose. "You're, uh, leaking."

Sam dabs his fingers at the area and stares at his blue fingers.

"It's merely cosmetic damage," he says. "My systems are in perfect function."

"That's not what I - " Dean begins. "Never mind." Sam is still staring at his stained fingers, a look on his face that might actually pass for... something. Dean can't place it but Sam looks a little less like a machine. He watches the android straighten out and paste on that rehearsed smile again.

"I am very much looking forward to working with you," he says, like reading lines from a script. Dean feels uneasy, and he's not sure if it's because there's an android staring at him or because at some point during the morning he stopped thinking  _it_ and started thinking  _him._


End file.
